


Glimpses

by KniiightMare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabbles, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hogwarts Third Year, Non-Linear Narrative, Pre-Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pre-Slash, Seer Draco Malfoy, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:37:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KniiightMare/pseuds/KniiightMare
Summary: When Draco was little, he used toknowthings. Without being told or taught, he would justknow. Events that hadn't happened yet, or facts that he hadn't learned. But that's not how other people worked. They didn’t just know things; they gathered facts and information from their environments and then drew logical conclusions based on these. Because of this, Draco mostly didn’t bother telling people about the things he knew. He had no way of explaining how he knew them and therefore no one would have any reason to believe him. So, instead he just went on with his life, enjoying the occasional small benefit of his strange gift.(Collection of drabbles / short chapters set in an AU where Draco Malfoy is a seer. More chapters will be added!)





	Glimpses

_ Pat-pat, pat-pat. _

The soles of Draco’s shoes click rhythmically against the stone floor as he storms down the corridor. His robes flutter about him dramatically, matching the metaphorical storm clouds over his head. He’s been in a foul mood all day—actually, come to think of it, he’s been in a foul mood all week. He can’t quite put his finger on what exactly it is that is disturbing him, only that it’s doing one hell of a job at it.

He turns a final corner and enters the Great Hall. He marches over to the Slytherin table and takes his usual seat. Some other students are seated down the length of the table, but the seats surrounding him are empty. His friends are probably still on their way back from class, if they’ve even managed to make it out of the classroom yet. Draco rolls his eyes irritatedly and rips a piece of bread in half. Normally he doesn’t mind staying in the classroom for an extra minute or two after class ends, especially when that class is potions, but today Pansy just decided to take for-fucking-ever to pick up her stuff, even stopping completely to gossip with Daphne about something or other. And typically Draco wouldn’t necessarily mind that either, except the room was full of bloody Gryffindors, whom he’d just had to tolerate for an entire class. It also didn’t help that Potter and his crew were still hanging about the place, mopping up some awful bubbling mess, undoubtedly caused by the weasel’s ineptitude within the subject. That, and he’d been hit with a terrible headache right as he walked in the room, which still hasn’t completely subsided. Although it is admittedly beginning to improve a bit now that he’s eaten and is no longer sitting in a stuffy and rather questionably ventilated potions classroom. Still though, he was clearly suffering and it was completely understandable for him to want to get out of there. Pansy had disagreed, however, emphatically apparently, since she’d even go so far as to purposely move even slower after he asked her to pick up the pace. That was when he gave up and stormed out in the hallway on his own.

Whatever. He actually is feeling a lot better now. He was probably just hungry. Or possibly his discontent at being in the physical presence of the Boy who Bloody Lived was so strong that it actually gave him a headache. Merlin, Potter is annoying. Draco wishes he’d been eaten by that Basilisk last year. Or at least petrified. Death by Basilisk is instantaneous, so maybe petrification would have been better. More painful. Draco sighs. Alas.

He takes a final bite of his muffin and gets up to leave. He should probably find Pansy and apologise for being rude earlier. Not that he was in the wrong or anything. It’ll just be annoying if she’s mad at him. As he heads for the entrance, his headache begins to build up behind his eyes again.  _ Damn _ . Just when he’d lost it. And as if having his brain sautéed wasn’t enough, his two  _ favourite _ people in the world just have to enter the hall right when he’s trying to leave. Potter and the weasel are laughing amiably about something—something inane probably—and this is right where Draco would throw out some scorching remark to take those insipid grins off their faces, but unfortunately he’s rather distracted by the  _ dragon _ which currently appears to be chewing on his  _ brain stem. _ So instead he just stalks past them, shoving Weasley with his shoulder on the way out.

Or he would do that, except the moment he passes by Weasley something barrels into him full force and sends him sprawling. The headache is worse than ever. It feels like his head is coming apart at the seams, and it takes a moment of panickedly blinking before the black spots threatening to overtake his vision finally disappear.

“Oi, you stay away from her, you ferret!” Weasley. Draco looks up at him. He’s got his wand in his front pocket. Within easy reach. Draco pushes himself off of the floor.

“If you ever trip me again, Weasel, I will make your existence  _ very _ painful!” Weasley seems to bristle at that. He takes a step forward looking about ready to lunge. Potter, at his side, seems ready to back him up.

“You—”, Weasley begins, only to break off and stare into space. He stays stock still for a second, before the tension in his shoulders seems to ease slightly. “Yeah, you’re right”, he mumbles, before turning on his heel and stalking off toward the Gryffindor table, Potter in tow.

Draco furrows his brow. What the hell was that about?

“Coward!”, he shouts after them as they walk away. They seem to ignore him, the only sign that they heard him the brief clenching and unclenching of the weasel’s hands.

Whatever. That’s fine by him. He still feels like his brain is about to fall out of his head, so he doesn’t mind skipping the whole altercation in favour of heading back to the dormitories to crawl off to  _ die _ in peace. Or at least sulk a bit.

His headache is a bit better once he gets back to the dorm and takes a potion for the pain, but it remains, dully throbbing, under his temples, refusing to leave. He skips the rest of his classes that day.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not really sure if that made any sense. I was kind of going for a specific thing here (which the tags kind of give away, but I don't think you can really get otherwise). I'm planning on adding more sort of drabble-y chapter-thingies to this work that will hopefully put this in more context. But I would really appreciate hearing your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> (Also, instant BFF status to anyone who can recognise where the chapter title came from!)


End file.
